Remember
by Gianne
Summary: Rigsby's memory on the day he has been hypnotized is still blank. Will someone be so kind to enlighten him? Or doesn't anybody want him to remember? One-shot.


Hi :) This is my first Mentalist - fic, so I hope I got the characters a bit right. I was trying very hard to write a new chapter for my other fic and catching up on season 1 of the Mentalist when this popped into my head and I just had to write it down. It takes place a few days after 'Russet Potatoes' and contains major spoilers for that episode. I hope you'll like it, I was quite satisfied with it myself, which doesn't happen often.  
Read, enjoy, review!

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Rigsby sighed and stretched the stiff muscles of his back. Sitting still this long was not good for him. It was his third turn on stake-out, together with Gra– Van Pelt. He had liked that prospect before, but now, after two hours of awkward silence, he had altered his opinion about that. If only Jane took part in the stake-out duties, than he would have someone to ask for a little help. He had tried Cho before, on his second stake-out, but he had only sniggered at him and told him that he in fact hád danced on his desk pretending to be Tina Turner. Lisbon had corrected that thought the minute she came in, but Rigsby wasn't entirely sure she spoke the truth. Something in her expression had bugged him, something he couldn't name but was very off.

Jane wouldn't join him for another week though. The blond had said that it would take two weeks at the least for the suspect to turn up, and refused to waste his time sitting around in some old apartment.

Van Pelt snapped Rigsby out of his deep-in-thought state.

'Rigsby?' she asked, her tone slightly higher than normal. Rigsby looked up at her.

'Yeah?' he replied, happy that the hours lasting silence was finally broken.

'About before, when you were hypnotized…' she started, but didn't finish after receiving an angry glare from her partner. He didn't like to be remembered of that once again. His memory was still mostly blank on that specific day, no matter how hard he had tried.

'What about it?' he asked harshly.

A light-pink blush crept from Van Pelt's neck to her jaw and up to her cheeks. She turned her gaze at the floor. 'Never mind.' she said softly. Rigsby was immediately sorry for being so angry with her. He should have know that she would take it personal; she always did. But the apology stuck in his throat, it would only make things worse. So he kept silent, and so did Van Pelt.

It was a few hours later that Rigsby took up the courage to break the silence once again.

'What about the hypnotizing?' he asked, his tone friendly now, trying to keep the annoyance and fright out very carefully.

Van Pelt shook her head. 'I was just wondering…' she said, letting the sentence trail off into silence.

'You were wondering?' Rigsby asked, wanting a real answer now.

'Whether you remembered.' she said, turning her eyes to the window again, pretending to be watching the streets. She tried to make the question sound casual, but the set of her shoulders betrayed her.

'Whether I remember what I have done back then?' he asked, however knowing that that was what she meant. Van Pelt nodded, picked up the binoculars and looked at something – or maybe at nothing. She had her hair in a ponytail though and Rigsby saw a this time bright red trail lighting up the sides of her neck and finding its way to her cheeks. He burned with curiosity: what had he done that made her blush redder than he'd ever seen her do? And did he even want to know?

'What did I do?' he asked, his words almost tumbling over one another. Van Pelt shook her head.

'Please Grace, tell me!' he asked pleadingly. She turned, taken off guard by the use of her first name. Her blush was fading, but still in place. Rigsby couldn't help but see that it made her look even prettier.

She shook her head again and turned to the streets where there was still nothing to be seen. It was clear that this was where the conversation on this topic ended.

* * *

'Jane.' Rigsby greeted when he entered the bullpen. It was empty except for them: Van Pelt and Cho were on stake-out and Lisbon was probably fast asleep. It had been a long day for Rigsby too, but like the day before, he couldn't sleep. He blamed it on the daylight; his stake-outs were night shifts and though they were allowed to take turns sleeping then, he never got further than a light slumber.

So there he was, at noon, sipping a cup of strong coffee to force his body to keep up with his wide-awake mind. Jane was lying on the couch – Rigsby suspected that he had been there ever since they started with the stake-outs – and was looking at Rigsby like he was something very interesting. Rigsby knew that look. It meant that Jane knew what he was up to and that he found it highly amusing.

'Rigsby.' Jane smiled knowingly at him.

Rigsby sat on the couch next to Jane. He cleared his throat.

'Just say it, man.' Jane grinned, amused by Rigsby's uncomfortableness.

Rigsby rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and asked: 'Will I ever remember what I did when I was hypnotized?'

Jane looked at him for a moment, then laughed out loud, involuntarily bending forward and almost falling off his beloved couch.

'It's not funny.' Rigsby grunted, while putting Jane back in sitting position. Jane laughed a bit, but controlled himself after several seconds and straightened his back.

'Well?' Rigsby asked, glaring at Jane. Said person chuckled lightly and answered: 'I don't know for sure, but if you still don't remember, probably not.'

'Damn.' Rigsby muttered and slumped into the couch.

'Why don't you just ask?' Jane asked curiously.

'Because I don't trust you to tell me the truth.' was Rigsby's answer.

'Ok, I understand why you don't ask me – not that I agree. But why not ask Cho?'

'He's even worse.'

'Lisbon?'

'No way. She's my boss, and besides, she didn't sound that truthful either.'

Jane frowned at that. He didn't ask for an explanation, very unlike himself. Rigsby didn't ask why he didn't. He was in fact grateful that he didn't have to explain, because he wasn't sure he could. Words and feelings had never been his thing.

'Van Pelt, then?' was Jane's logic following question. Rigsby sighed.

'I think I did something to her. Something embarrassing, or maybe something bad…' His eyes widened when he realised something.

'I didn't hurt her, did I?' he asked in horror.

Jane shook his head. 'You didn't.' Rigsby decided that he could better believe that. It seemed true; Jane's eyes didn't sparkle the way they did when he was teasing.

There was more silence, and Rigsby started to wonder if he had done something that made silence surround him, when Jane spoke.

'There is something we can try…' he said, sounding not very sure.

'And that is?' Rigsby asked impatient.

'Hypnosis. If I hypnotise you again, you might regain some memory, and you can write it down so you can read it later.'

'What are you waiting for?'

Jane smiled. He liked to hypnotise people, and had found that Rigsby wasn't hard to hypnotise. It was very tempting to make him do what he had done the last time… No. Though it was time that those two admitted their feelings to each other, it wouldn't help if Rigsby molested Van Pelt's door for it.

Jane started talking in the tone Rigsby was meanwhile familiar with. He tried to let his guard down.

'Listen to the sound of my voice. You feel very relaxed…'

The next thing he consciously noticed was a sheet in front of him. He was sitting behind a desk – but it wasn't his desk.

'Alright.' Jane said, sounding pleased with himself. He walked back to his couch and let himself fall down.

Rigsby looked at the sheet in front of him. It was unreadable, even compared to his usual handwriting which had resulted in several F's in highschool – because the teachers couldn't read what he had written down.

'You're not a leftie, are you?' Jane asked.

'No, I'm not.' Rigsby said, confused. He looked at the sheet again, and back at Jane.

'Do you mean I wrote this with my left hand?' He asked incredulously.

Jane nodded.

Rigsby looked at the sheet with renewed interest. He could make out some words… There, that capital, that was an L, definitely. The following word had to be 'Lisbon'. He marked it with a black pen, and started marking all the 'Lisbons' in the drabbles. He continued that method with several names, like Jane's and Van Pelt's, and also found the 'I'. Slowly, some of the sentences became more and more clear. But there was no consistency, or none he could find anyway. Rigsby sighed and put the pen down.

'Nothing?' Jane asked.

'Nothing.' Rigsby confirmed. He knew what he had to do now, and he was reluctant to make it happen.

'I'm going to catch up on some sleep.' he announced, before leaving the bullpen. Jane raised his hand as a goodbye and laid back again, staring at the ceiling.

* * *

Rigsby dreaded getting to the CBI apartment the next evening. It was his turn with Van Pelt again, and he knew if he ever wanted to find out, this was the ultimate time. He had tossed and turned through the entire day – still on night shifts – and had finally decided that he had to know. If he had done something stupid, he had to make it right, and if not, there was nothing to worry about.

Yeah, easy enough to think. Act upon that was a lot harder. He opened the door and saw that Van Pelt was already there. Dutiful as she was, she was gazing out the window. The little light that the computer gave off made her hair shine blue-ish; it made her seem surreal. She turned at the sound of his footsteps.

'Rigsby.' she greeted, and she looked happy to see him – or was that just wishful thinking?

'Van Pelt.' he greeted with a nod and took a seat next to her. They stared out of the window again, while Rigsby was building up the courage to ask her. It took him more than ten minutes, but then, he was ready.

'Van Pelt?' he asked tentatively.

'Yes?'

'Will you…' he let the sentence trail off once, but decided to finish it anyway. 'Will you tell me what I did while under hypnosis?'

Van Pelt looked down, then up at him. She shook her head, but not very convincing.

'Please?' Rigsby asked, and tried very hard to pout. He didn't succeed, it was an expression that just didn't go with his sturdy features. Van Pelt picked her empty coffee cup and threw it at him.

'Don't do that. It makes you look stupid.' she added with a grin.

'Okay, whatever. Just tell me then.' Rigsby said.

'Why don't you ask Cho… Lisbon… Jane?'

'I don't trust them.'

'Why not?'

'Jane for obvious reasons,' he left out the part about getting himself hypnotised

'Cho because he told me I did in fact act like Tina Turner – I didn't right?' he asked, pretending to be scared of that. Van Pelt laughed.

'No, you didn't.'

'Alright. That's one good thing.'

'And why not Lisbon?' she pressed. Rigsby sighed.

'If it would affect my work, she would lie to me, and I would believe it.' he said, in his best attempt to explain.

'Why do you think I won't?'

'Maybe you will, but I'm pretty sure I can see through that.' Van Pelt narrowed her eyes.

'You think?'

'Yes, I do.' Rigsby said, grinning wickedly. Van Pelt snorted.

'So why don't you tell me.' he suggested casually, like he brought up a new and entirely neutral subject.

Van Pelt blushed, folded her arms, unfolded them and finally looked at Rigsby tiredly, like she was hoping that he would say 'nevermind'. He didn't.

'What do you remember?' she said.

'Bits and pieces. Nothing really coherent.' Rigsby answered, secretly proud of himself that he had gotten her to give in.

'Well, you kind of slammed a suspect's face into the table and broke his nose in the process,' she started matter-of-factly. Rigsby hissed. Lisbon had told him that before, and though he knew it wasn't what bothered him, he still couldn't stand that that woman had gotten him to do that.

Van Pelt continued. 'So when we got you out of the room, Jane started to "oh-my" and when he started waving his hand in front of your face, we all knew what was wrong.' she winced ever so slightly at the thought. He had been downright terrifying in there, violent. That was a side she had only seen vague indications of, and seeing it confirmed was not something she liked to remember.

Rigsby nodded, encouraging her to go on. Van Pelt cleared her throat. 'Jane told Lisbon he could prove fairly easily that you were hypnotized, while you were all the while telling us you weren't.' That was a memory she could smile at. He had been quite endearing when he desperately tried to convince all of them there was no way he had been hypnotized. The more he had stated that, the more clear it had become he wás.

'So he told Lisbon that hypnotized persons were very open to suggestions. None of us understood what he meant, but that is fairly common, right?'

Rigsby chuckled. 'Sure is.'

'So he asked you to close your eyes, and imagine what you wanted most at that very moment.' Van Pelt paused there, giving Rigsby the time to imagine the same thing again, and remember it now. A line formed on his forehead and he closed his eyes for a second. Just like last time, it didn't take him long.

'And then he told you to go ahead.' she added, her voice slightly thick.

'And did I?' Rigsby asked, his voice high and eyes wide. Van Pelt nodded; something was stuck in her throat and it denied her to speak.

'Oh my God…' Rigsby mumbled. 'Oh – my – God. Did I… Oh my.' He let his head drop in his hands and massaged his temples with his thumbs. It was quiet for way too long in the dark room. Van Pelt pinched the bridge of her nose. What had she done?

Rigsby looked up after several minutes. 'I'm so sorry.' he said, his eyes full with sincerity. 'I'm so very sorry. How do I make this right?'

Van Pelt blinked. She knew a very good way to make this right, but her rational mind held her back. This was not the time. Not – the – time.

'Tell me, Grace.' he asked pleadingly. It was clear that he didn't remember any of it. He didn't remember how she had kissed him back and folded her arms around him. He didn't remember that when they had broken off, she had looked at him, dumbfounded and confused but happy to the core. He probably thought that he had invaded her personal space without any warning and assaulted her, her attempts to shove him away feeble against his trained arms, having no chance like the suspect that ended up with a broken nose.

'Rigsby.' she said softly. He had dropped his head again and didn't look up when he heard his name.

'Wayne.' she insisted and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Don't be sorry.'

Rigsby looked up, confused by the tender tone of her voice. Van Pelt smiled and seeing the smile he loved so much didn't do much for his coherention.

'I'm the one who is sorry here.' she said, still smiling, making Rigsby's brow furrow in more confusion.

'Sorry that you don't remember.' she clarified and made their lips connect once again.

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